Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,53

for a man determined to follow his wife?

He knocked and a minute later, a young woman opened the door. She had a baby, dressed in pink and white, perched on a hip. “Yes,” she said, her tone guarded.

“Hi,” he said, trying for relaxed. It was a struggle when he was strung tight. “I thought Gloria and Ted Blakely lived here.” It was as good an opening line as any. It was possible the new owner had learned something about the previous owners from helpful neighbors.

She shook her head and swayed in the way that all young mothers seemed to know. His sister and sister-in-laws had come home from the hospital knowing how. He stared at the baby. Cute kid. Not much hair. He was about to lift his gaze when the baby flashed him a gummy grin that lit up her face.

At that moment, he’d never envied his partner more. In a few short months, Sam would come home to pure sweetness. Sure, there’d be dirty diapers and sleepless nights but it wouldn’t matter. Because there’d be love. Unconditional love.

“They’ve been gone for almost a year,” the woman said, bringing Cruz back. “They both died. We got the house for a good price. Guess it freaked some people out that the man had killed himself here.”

“Any family?” he asked.

The woman shook her head. “I guess not.”

This was going nowhere fast. “Thanks for your time,” he said, giving the baby one last look. He turned, walked down the sidewalk to the house next door, and knocked on the red door. A woman with a square body and a round face answered. Cruz guessed her age to be about sixty.

“My name is Cruz Montoya,” he said, holding his card steady so that she could read the information. “I was hoping to talk to someone who knew Gloria or Ted Blakely.”

She shrugged and her housedress lifted on one side. “I suppose I knew them as well as anybody. They kept to themselves a lot.”

“What about family?”

“Poor things. They didn’t have anybody. Not like me and Bert with our five.” She leaned forward so far that Cruz thought she might topple over. “I think they might have lost a child,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “One time when I was visiting, I had to use their bathroom.” She patted her abdomen. “Five babies and your bladder ain’t what it used to be.”

Maybe he should tell his sister. She kept complaining that her breasts were sagging. It would give her a whole new body part to worry about.

“I happened to see in their bedroom. There was a pink cross hanging next to the dresser. “It had a name on it. I think it was Missy.”

Cruz pulled out the picture of Troy Blakely. “Did you ever see a man who looked like this hanging around?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But then again, I don’t see so good anymore.”

“Is there anybody else who might have known them?” he asked.

She pointed at the house across the street. “You could talk to the Moulins. Of course, neither Debi nor Frank gets home from work until after five.”

He wouldn’t make it back to San Antonio until after seven-thirty. He didn’t want to leave Meg alone for that long. “Thanks for your help,” he said. He got in his car and headed east.

* * *

DETECTIVE MYERS LISTENED to Meg’s story without interruption or expression. He sat in a visitor chair, she sat behind her desk. When she finished, she realized she was clenching her hands together. “Well?” she prompted. She’d spewed her guts. He could at least answer.

“I appreciate you telling me,” he said. “I’d have liked to have known right away but that’s a moot point now. I take it your ex-husband doesn’t know any of this.”

She nodded. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I don’t have any compelling reason to tell him,” he said. “But he’s a smart guy and from what I can tell, a good cop. If he starts digging, he might stumble upon it.”

That’s what she was afraid of.

“You don’t have any reason to believe what’s happening now has anything to do with what happened twenty years ago?” Myers asked.

“No. But something unusual did happen today, shortly after I called you. I don’t want to make too big a deal out of it but I want you to know about it.”

“What was that?”

“I had a visitor. Or so Tim Burtiss said. I had to run upstairs to Scott’s office and when